


couldn’t hurt a fly

by buck_y_bucks



Series: this hand brings new life [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Feminine!Bucky, Fix It, M/M, PWP, Porn With Plot, Soft!Bucky, Top Steve Rogers, Wakanda, amputee!Bucky, how it should have ended, post Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buck_y_bucks/pseuds/buck_y_bucks
Summary: Bucky wondered again what Steve would think of him, crisply cutting carrots and onions, cooking for them with the vegetables he’d grown. He closed his eyes and imagined Steve telling him about how beautiful their home was, how delicious the meal was, how Bucky was good and how he could create good things for them to share.He shivered hard.It was like he could already feel the line of Steve’s chest against his back, his warm hands coming around to ruck up the tummy of his shirt. He hoped Steve would be pleased to feel the softness there, the physical reminder of Bucky’s choice to stop fighting. Butterflies erupted in his belly and his cheeks grew hot.Soon, the rest of their lives would start.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers, Stucky
Series: this hand brings new life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703542
Comments: 13
Kudos: 192





	couldn’t hurt a fly

**Author's Note:**

> Grammarly was my beta reader.  
> TW for sexy times.

_ Couldn’t hurt a fly  _

Bucky startled awake, quilt pooling around his waist as he looked frantically around his bedroom. Empty. His heart slowed as he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. A bird chirped overhead and the easy morning sun winked at him from between the small gap in the curtains. 

It was Saturday. Bucky smiled, and something warm tickled in his belly. Steve was coming home. Steve was coming to see  _ him.  _ After months of calling and letter writing, the thought of  _ Steve  _ actually being there, in  _ their home,  _ seeing the life Bucky had created for  _ them...  _ The thought spurred him out of bed. He twisted his hair into a bun with deft movements, tucking the tail underneath. He used his teeth to drag his scrunchie up from his right wrist to the first knuckle of his hand. He reached up and captured the bun, twisting his wrist to loop it securely in place. When Bucky looked up, his own eyes startled him in the mirror. He saw a loose string of hair had fallen out toward the back and he huffed. 

For the first time since settling in Wakanda for good, Bucky wondered what he’d look like to Steve as he twisted around the bathroom. His eyes wandered to the curve of his amputated left shoulder, the white scarring jagged and mottled with pink scar tissue. Some days he can still feel the heavy weight of his metal prosthesis but most days he feels nothing at all. 

He’s worked hard for that lightness. 

Bucky began methodically preparing for his day, easily falling into the quiet routine he’s created. Soft soap, cool lotion warming in his palm, a handful of vitamins, a swipe of blush pink chapstick. When he pulled the tie out of his bun, long hair tumbled past his shoulders, and he smoothed it with his fingertips before going in with a brush. He parted his hair off to the right, the frame of it swooping femininely across his forehead.

He looked at himself for several moments. Some days, this was his highlight. Bucky Barnes has always had a role to play- the dutiful provider. For years, he worked to put food on the table for a family struggling through the Great Depression. Then he had  _ Steve  _ to care for and appearances to keep which meant he had girls to entertain. Then he was a soldier, a Sergeant, a sniper, the right-hand man of Captain America. He  _ was was was was was _ \- Bucky braced his right hand on his heart, pressing gently as he closed his eyes. The pressure grounded him, and the reflection in the mirror reminded him that  _ this _ body, with its softening edges and growing curves, was  _ his  _ body. 

Here in his quiet home on the outskirts of rural Wakanda, Bucky wasn't  _ JamesSergeantBarnesWinterSoldierSoldatAsset  _ he was just  _ Bucky _ . Soon he’d be  _ SteveandBucky.  _

Bucky moved toward his closet. Inside a line of strappy sandals sat like ants in a row, nearly covered by a rack of low hanging skirts. The right side had been emptied, and Bucky preened at the thought of Steve’s shirts filling the cleared space. He pulled on a white, linen skirt and a soft yellow blouse, small embroidered flowers lining the hem. 

He then made his bed, keeping the edges untucked. For breakfast he ate a leftover muffin, and drank a glass of tea. He washed the plate and glass and put them away. Methodically, he began to prepare lunch.

He put a large pot of stock on, adding beans and chopped veggies. A jar of tomato paste helped thicken the soup as he set it to simmer. 

Bucky pulled out a cutting board and his bag of flour, throwing together a lean bread dough that he left to rest in the warming drawer of the oven. Only when the loaf was set to proof did Bucky pause, looking around his kitchen. A few dirty utensils lay discarded in the sink, and his kitchen counter was covered with a thin layer of bread flour. His hands were covered in the stuff. Bucky wondered again what Steve would think of him, crisply cutting carrots and onions,  _ cooking  _ for them with the vegetables  _ he’d grown.  _ He closed his eyes and imagined Steve telling him about how beautiful their home was, how delicious the meal was, how Bucky was  _ good  _ and how he could create  _ good  _ things for them to share. 

He shivered hard. 

It was like he could already feel the line of Steve’s chest against his back, his warm hands coming around to ruck up the tummy of his shirt. He hoped Steve would be pleased to feel the softness there, the physical reminder of Bucky’s choice to stop fighting. Butterflies erupted in his belly and his cheeks grew hot. The timer interrupted him and he pressed his thighs tightly together, focusing on the tasks ahead. 

With practiced ease, Bucky folded the dough into its shape, covering it loosely with plastic wrap. He started to preheat the oven as he set to work cleaning the kitchen. He wiped every counter over and over, detailed the microwave, and cleaned the inside of the fridge. When every surface sparkled, Bucky slashed the loaf of bread with two parallel stripes and popped it in the oven. Then he swept the kitchen, getting the corners and into the pantry. He sprayed down the bathroom, giving the sparkling sink and shower a cursory wipe down. The living room was vacuumed, the remote was sanitized, the rugs were smacked with a broom in the backyard. 

When the timer rang a second time, Bucky turned off the oven and let the bread rest inside. It was nearing eleven as he stepped into his rain boots and trudged to his garden. Using the tap from the side of the house to fill his tin watering can, Bucky painstakingly watered each of his precious plants. Each leaf and flower, every plucked strawberry or dug up potato, was a reminder that Bucky was  _ good.  _ His metal hand had killed- but his flesh one bore new life  _ every day.  _

There were the purple leaves of budding radishes, the cluster of green carrot caps, a solitary sprig of asparagus standing tall. 

Bucky moved down the line, stopping when he got to his tomatoes. Sitting heavy on the waist-high plant was a tiny green tomato. Slowly, Bucky reached out to cup the growth in his palm, and it warmed up everything inside of him. 

Bucky was so fixated on the sprout that he missed Steve pulling up entirely. He was startled by the sound of the sliding glass door. He whipped around, skirt fluttering around his calves as his hand flew up to his chest. (Later, he will think about how he didn’t reach for a gun or a knife, he didn’t bare his teeth or crouch, he simply  _ exclaimed _ , mouth forming a delicate O. His body knew- it  _ knew. _ ) 

Steve stared at him from the wooden deck. Bucky’s hand fell lamely to his side as his heart roared in his ears. All the blood rushed up to his face. How he must  _ look with  _ the bottom of his white skirt splashed with mud, a swipe or two of flour on his arm. The anxious monster that lived in his belly squirmed, but the thought dissolved when Steve stumbled forward, practically wine drunk just off the sight of him. 

“Bucky.” He exhaled. He skipped the bottom step to dash across the grass. 

“Steve!” Bucky choked out, opening his arms. 

Steve practically smashed into him, both of his strong arms going around Bucky's waist to pick him up and twirl him around the garden. The easy circle sends his skirt flaring out, and Bucky’s arm goes around Steve’s neck. He laughed, tucking his nose into the crook of his lover's neck and letting the sound vibrate the column of Steve’s throat. 

“Bucky.” Steve said again, “God, Bucky.” It was almost like a prayer, and he lowered Bucky just to get a better grip. His eyes raked down Bucky- swallowing the pleasant curve of his hips, the softening lines of his arms and jaw. Steve crushed his lover against his broad chest. “God you look so beautiful, I have gotta get a better look atchya-“ Both of his hands framed Bucky’s face, pushing at a stray lock of brown hair. “I love your hair like this.” The compliment was whispered praise, and Bucky looked down as his face warmed. There was a completely different monster in his belly now, one that  _ demanded.  _ When Steve ran a hand down Bucky’s side, Bucky melted, knees knocking together as he clutched Steve. 

“Kiss me.” 

Steve pressed their mouths together hungrily, the taste of strawberry chapstick jolting him. He pressed their mouths together again, quick this time so he could pull back and look at Bucky’s yellow blouse. He practically groaned, “Can’t believe I’m coming home to my beautiful girl after all this time.” Bucky whimpered, fingers curling at the nape of Steve’s neck and tugging him closer. Steve lets him guide their lips together for another slow kiss, both of them clutching at the other desperately. When they’ve kissed and held one another for so long that Bucky’s swollen mouth pounds with every beat of his heart, he leads the two of them inside. 

The first thing Steve said was “It smells delicious!”

Which set Bucky (and the butterflies in his belly) off in a flurry- taking the soup off the heat, and pulling the lid. Steam billowed out, filling the house even more with the smell of soup. Steve watches from where he leans against the wall, eyes fixated on Bucky’s movements. 

To Steve, Bucky seemed to  _ dance  _ around the little kitchen, sure-footed in a way he hadn’t been for years. When Bucky catches him staring he sends him off to set his bags in their shared bedroom. Steve stole another kiss, going to his truck to pull out the two suitcases he’d packed. He deposited them in their bedroom, changing out of his crisp button-up and into a softer shirt. He couldn’t help but peer curiously around the bedroom. A pile of pillows perched at the front of the bed, on top of a warm looking quilt. A small lamp sat on one of the bedside tables- and Steve imagined Bucky laying there as he read a book. In the bathroom, a small army of products sat on the vanity, and a tiny stool was perched in the corner. Steve fingered the lip of a mason jar filled to the brim with different tubes of lipstick. 

Maybe Steve could ask Bucky to put one on for him- maybe show him his favorite. A tendril of thrill shot up his spine at the thought. He had seen the nighties, hung in their shared closet with their sheer bodices and lace. Steve thought of Bucky, stepping into the bedroom with nothing but the slip of a chemise and red painted lips- something hot began to pool at the base of his spine. 

He washed his hands and splashed his face with cool water before he returned to the kitchen. 

Waiting for him was a set table and a bowl of soup, a thick slice of bread perched on the lip. Bucky flittered nervously behind his chair, holding a carafe of iced tea. His eyes flicked between the drink in his hand and Steve, “I have lemonade or water-“ 

Steve held up his hand, smiling. “Tea sounds great, Buck.”

Bucky poured the tea into Steve’s empty glass. He couldn’t help but itch under the others gaze, hand trembling slightly from nerves. When Bucky set the tea down, Steve made eye contact once again. He pinned Bucky there with a gaze that consumed him. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” Steve said as he made his way across the room, pulling out the chair next to his and motioning for Bucky to sit. Steve watched as he gathered his skirt and sat, and then he scooted Bucky closer to the table. When Steve took his seat, he moved his chair closer to Bucky’s, and his shoulder  _ just  _ grazed the stump of the other. 

“Is this okay?” Steve asked, looking sidelong at him.

Bucky's face flushed suddenly, the color going all the way under his collar. It complimented the yellow nicely, Steve thought. He spooned a bite into his mouth, still watching. His lips curved into a small smile at the hearty taste. 

“Yes.” Bucky said finally, and then followed with: “I’m nervous.” He broke their eye contact, digging his spoon into his lunch. 

Steve started. “ _ Nervous?  _ Whatcha nervous for?” 

He watched as Bucky dabbed a small chunk of his bread into his soup, chewing slowly. He took a sip of his tea, cheeks still red with his blush. 

“I’m not the same Bucky.” He shrugs. He takes another bite as if he’s determined to fill the space with  _ something.  _ Steve’s right hand came down to rest lightly on Bucky’s thigh, switching the spoon to his free hand.

“That’s true,” Steve said finally. He said the next part very seriously. “The old Bucky had two arms,” Steve can’t help but lean over to kiss the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky shivered despite himself, still looking pointedly away. “And he smelled bad.” Steve makes a show of sniffing Bucky. “You on the other hand, smell so good-“ His eyes twinkle, and Bucky let’s go of a husky laugh, “And you look so  _ beautiful.  _ I ain’t never seen someone look this beautiful. And you cooked me such a delicious meal..” 

Bucky, for the millionth time that day, feels a tremor move through him. Steve leans in, throwing his right arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulling him in close, so close he can practically whisper right into his ear: “Couldn’t believe when I saw ya, standing in that garden. So beautiful in that skirt. Couldn’t believe youse was mine, my beautiful girl.” He nuzzled into Bucky’s hair, who stifled a small sound in his throat. 

Steve heard it anyways, and his breath fastened. 

“You like that?” His left hand moved to cup Bucky’s cheek, moving to press their mouths together. The kiss wrings everything out of Bucky, who trembles in his seat as he leans into Steve. “You like bein’ my beautiful little wife?”

“Yes,” Bucky rasped, tilting his head to let Steve kiss across his neck. “I been workin’ real hard to make this house for us, a home for us. I’ve been waiting for you to come home. Waiting for my man to come home.” Bucky gasped, going quiet as Steve stopped suckling across his collarbones and instead moaned into his skin. Little purple bruises had followed his mouth across Bucky’s chest, and his hand went to tangle in Steve’s hair. The soup sat, totally forgotten. “I want to be a good wife for you, Steve. Make sure you never regret-“

Bucky’s interrupted by the hard press of Steve’s lips against his, suddenly hefted into the air by strong arms. Bucky squeals with laughter, leaning against Steve’s strong chest as he’s carried to his- _ their-  _ bedroom. He’s flopped onto the bed, and then Steve is upon him, greedily kissing Bucky's face and neck, wide palms finding their way under his yellow blouse. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, won’t ever regret nothing when it’s with you,” Steve told him, and Bucky pulled at his shirt as they kissed feverishly. In one movement, Steve peeled it off and sent it flying across the room. Then Steve crowded him, and Bucky’s legs fell into a soft V to accommodate his lover's bulk. His  _ bulk.  _ Bucky practically purred as the larger body loomed protectively over him. His hands drifted across Steve’s muscled chest, fingers dipping into the harsh ridges of his strong body. He had  _ months  _ of touching to make up for, and the hot swell of Steve’s hardening cock against his ass was all the encouragement he needed to continue his desperate ministrations. 

Steve had liked his soup, had liked his  _ skirt-  _ he felt almost dizzy with it. “Tell me  _ more,”  _ Bucky demanded, falling onto his back so he could gaze up at Steve, who was bracketed above with flexed arms. Steve laughed hotly, lowering his body to press himself tightly against Bucky. 

“Tell you more about what, sweetheart?” He grabbed the flowers along the hem of Bucky’s shirt- “Lift your arms,” He commanded and then flinched. “Arm.” He said, correcting himself.

Bucky just giggled, hand going up as Steve shimmied his blouse over his head. A moan is punched out of Steve as he plays a large hand over Bucky’s soft stomach. 

“God baby,” He panted, bearing down again to gather Bucky in his arms, “My soft girl, my soft beautiful girl,” The next sound out of Bucky is almost a sob, and he writhed into Steve’s touch. “My beautiful girl, could never hurt a fuckin’ fly, look at her, so gentle.” He ruts into Bucky’s ass, the hard line of him  _ so  _ hot against the thin linen of the skirt. Bucky cried out, hand scrambling for purchase on the quilt as Steve humped against him  _ again and again.  _ He felt small, the powerlessness stirring something inside him that affirmed his goodness, his softness. 

“Please!” Bucky wailed, lifting his legs to slot them around Steve. His skirt pooled at his waist, revealing the soft pink of his panties. The head of his hard dick poked out sweetly from the top, all pink and shiny. Steve practically growled, reaching between them to press two fingers against the cleft of Bucky’s ass, running the fingers across the part of his cheeks. “Oh, oh!” He hollered, twisting. Steve pinned him down with a hand to his hips, the other moving Bucky’s panties aside so he could skid along intimate flesh. Bucky makes another desperate sound, wantonly rockin into the touch. 

“Does my beautiful girl need something?” Just as he asked it, his index finger poked and prodded, breaching the first wring of Bucky’s muscle just to pull it out again. Bucky practically howled. “Does she need something from her man, is there something she needs me to give her?” The finger is back, pressing,  _ pressing,  _ until it’s up to the very first knuckle. “Is there?” Steve persisted coolly. 

“Please!” Bucky cried, eyes genuinely prickling with tears, “Steve I’ve waited so long, please!” Steve shushed him gently, rubbing his palms up the underside of Bucky’s trembling thighs. 

When Bucky quieted a little, Steve insisted again. “Tell me.” His blue eyes didn’t waver, but the heave of his chest and stain of his blush gave away his calm exterior. “Tell me what you need from your big,” He emphasized the word with another tantalizing run of his finger along Bucky’s crack, his body alone keeping Bucky’s thighs parted as he wriggled, “Strong,” that same finger pressed into him softly, bottoming out with the word “Man.” 

Bucky erupted, everything inside of him lit on  _ fire-  _ “Fuck me!” He throws his head to the side, and the sight of his loose hair spilling across the pillow tore a low sound out of Steve. Suddenly, he’s shifting onto his knees and elbows, hands coming around to clasp Bucky’s thighs as he angled his ass off the bed. Just like that, Steve mouthed at the heat behind his girls tightened balls, his nose applying the slightest of pressure. He licked brazenly down Bucky’s perineum, and the latter's thighs went to lock around his head. Steve pressed open-mouthed kisses to Bucky’s puckered hole, licking wetly to create the lube he’d need to properly work him open. 

In minutes, Steve had Bucky blissed out and clutching at his hair, pressing into the heat of his mouth. Each long pull of his tongue is answered by the aftershocks of Bucky’s tightening thighs. Steve began working his fingers in, and slowly he opened up his best girl, panting into the crease of Bucky’s thighs as he watched his fingers disappear. The feeling of Bucky had Steve lightheaded, and soon he was crashing forward in a desperate search for lips. The two kissed hard, Bucky’s hand coming down to fumble with Steve’s belt.

Seconds passed before Bucky whimpered: “I can’t do it.” Bucky looked up imploringly at Steve, lower lip caught between his teeth. His eyes looked so big. “Steve, I can't take your belt off with one hand-“ 

“Oh!” Steve said, finally getting it. He sat up to quickly unhook his belt, not evening bothering to take it off as he pulled down his trousers and briefs in one fell swoop. His cock bobbed free, flushed red and stained purple at the musky tip. Bucky stared, totally fixated on the patch of dark blond curls at the base. He wants to run his fingers through them, pull Steve into his mouth as he kneels in his ski-

“Do you have any slick?” Steve asked, hand going to be back of his neck, “Since I’m already standin’.” 

Bucky grinned sheepishly, rolling over to pull a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. Chuckling, Steve knelt back on the bed and crawled his way up, catching Bucky’s lips in a tender kiss as he took the bottle. He generously coated three fingers, the cool touch coming as a surprise. 

“Uh, uh!” Bucky breathed as Steve crooked his knuckles, searching for- “Agh!” Bucky’s head went back, muscles going loose as the pleasure gave him tunnel vision. Steve drives his fingers into the spot, again and again, mercilessly stimulating the nun of Bucky’s prostate. Bucky’s head whips back and forth where it’s pressed against the pillow, “Steve!”

That was all the encouragement Steve needed to slick himself up, wet palms grabbing the fleshy undersides of Bucky’s thighs as he bent up his knees. Slowly, slowly, Steve pressed the tip of his lubed cock to the ring of forgiving muscle. Bucky howled again, booking his ankles around Steve’s back. 

“Fuck-“ Steve said, stilling. He tried to adjust to the tight pressure, his ears singing with pleasure. 

He looked down, rocked by Bucky like this, spread across their bed in panties and a gentle skirt like the world's sexiest crucifixion, pinned under Steve’s weight and cock. “Fuck,” Steve panted, dipping his head for another kiss, “I’m like a teenager, barely holdin’ on.” He thrust, groaning all the way, setting an easy pace. “You look so fuckin’ good- ugh-“ 

Bucky’s hand comes up to grip Steve’s bicep. His fingers couldn’t even reach all the way around and  _ fuck,  _ that does it, he’s pushing against Steve and gasping. 

“Can you come on my cock?” Steve panted, punctuating his sentence with a tweak of Bucky’s pointed nipple. “Can you cum just from letting your man stick it up in you? Please baby-“ Steve exhaled harshly, and one final nudge against Bucky’s prostate sends Bucky spiraling, and finally,  _ finally  _ he’s cumming. His body trembled, hand squeezing Steve  _ hard.  _

“Steve!” He cried, clenching his ass as ropes of cum hit Steve’s chest and belly. The feeling drove Steve to the edge, and he gathered Bucky’s hips in his hands, fucking into him rough and desperate. It takes

only one moment more for Steve to still as he finished, bottomed out in Bucky. 

Steve rolled to the right, chest heaving with exertion. Bucky unceremoniously pulled off his soiled skirt and panties, collapsing on top of Steve. Steve’s arms knot around him, keeping Bucky tight against his sticky chest. They lay for several moments, collecting their breath as they reverently touched one another’s skin. 

Finally, Steve’s stomach rumbled. Bucky looked up curiously and caught Steve’s blush.

“Sorry,” He murmured, lips against Bucky’s hair, “I haven't really eaten today.”

Bucky smiled. It reached his eyes. “It’s okay.” He said. “We have our soup.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Soft Bucky embracing his feminine side to cope with the post-Hydra/Snap trauma


End file.
